


Bellwether

by The_Snail



Category: Catherine (Video Game)
Genre: A little, Angst, Cross-Posted on Wattpad, Fluff and Angst, I'm Bad At Tagging, I'm kinda nervous posting this haha, Its kinda a sick fic I guess, M/M, Near Death Experiences, Pining god damn it, Self-Discovery, astaroths hard to write god damn, but this is the better site, cannon typical themes, not understanding emotions, this isn't very good
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-27
Updated: 2020-06-06
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:14:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,966
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23881381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Snail/pseuds/The_Snail
Summary: After royally fucking up, Vincent is forced to resign to a depressing fate.
Relationships: Vincent Brooks/Trisha | Ishtar | Astaroth
Comments: 8
Kudos: 12





	1. Emotions are Feeble

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback and the like is very appreciated!

It had been a couple days since the nightmares had started up again- a fresh batch of sheep had arrived and the majority of them were mulling about the landing. Some were discussing strategies, more were frozen in petrified fear, others had given up on escaping or began to break their fragile minds already; a select few seemed to be biding their time until a particular member of the flock arrived-a shining beacon of hope in the dismal despair hanging over the minds of the fodder, but they weren’t the only ones waiting.

Astaroth let out an exasperated sigh, lolling his head against the wall behind him-rolling his eyes and crossing his arms in a huff. The lowly, pathetic specimens that had made it this far were too meek and cowardly to move along-he was starting to wonder about the only sheep who seemed brave (or reckless) enough to face the tower head on, he had already tried luring him home; he had yet to appear, however. Closing his eyes, he resigned himself to calmly awaiting the bellwether of this century’s herd.

“Hey, you in there?”

Snapping his eyes open, a grin spread across his face immediately out of pure excitement. Looking through the grate to his side, he saw the shaking, sickly pale form of a human.  
There he is.

“Yes, sit down if you want to chat, Brooks.”

His smile faltered as quickly as it appeared, the fact that this animal of a man thought he could mess with him was infuriating. The cocky smile he has plastered on his face caused his stomach to twist and his face to flush with rage- disgusting, absolutely abhorrent. Calming himself as the man on the other side sat down, the booth creaking at the weight he put on it. He could sense the fear behind that smug façade of his.

“So, I see you’ve made it up,” He revelled in the way his condescending tone pissed him off.  
“I was beginning to fear that you’d died! I mean it took you long enough”

“Can you just hurry up and ask the question? I can’t be bothered with you tonight.”

Astaroth conceded, satisfied with the results that pestering him brought. The slight bite of anger in his voice caused him to smirk in smug satisfaction.  
The usual, soothing disembodied voice boomed throughout the small space they were in:

**“Is popping bubble wrap fun?”**

As the tassels fell, the human looked over to the window in confusion.  
“What the fuck does this have to do with anything?”  
The demon chose to ignore his question, picking up his quill in order to note down his answer. With an audible sigh of frustration, the man sheepishly tugged down the rope with a resounding ‘Hell yes!’ as his answer. Astaroth couldn’t stop himself from giggling excitedly, almost snapping the nib of his pen as he lurched forwards.  
“I expected nothing less of you, Brooks!”

“Great,” The sheep’s sarcastic tone shot down his excitement almost instantly “are you done yet? Can I leave?”  
Scowling at the dauntless response the animal gave, he took a deep breath to prevent a sharp bite back at him- it would only draw out their little conversation longer than necessary. Besides, the anxiety fuelling his hastiness was enough satisfaction for him.

“Fine, don’t die on your way out, alright? You’ve got something big waiting for you tonight”  
The vague threat caused the ram to jump slightly and, before he could get a word in edgewise, he was rocketed upwards towards the next stage. 

Letting out another sigh, Astaroth leaned down to rest his head on his hands. Talking to the lamb was almost as exhausting as waiting for him- it was slightly depressing to know that a man with such potential was so infuriatingly stupid, so determined in all the wrong ways- headstrong and reckless- just thinking about him again caused his stomach to flip again in an unfamiliar and perturbing way.

_Intriguing._


	2. The Child

Vincent half-stumbled out of the confessional, his legs still shaky from the rollercoaster-like thrill the sudden propulsion upwards gave him. The sterile stone blocks felt cold against his bare feet as he cautiously stepped closer to the centre of the platform he was dropped on. His body shook out of some deep-seated fear that he seemed perpetually carry with him in this nightmarish place, fear usurping the slight sense of comfort the chats with his fellow “sheep” brought back on the landings.

Abruptly, a hellish shriek shook the tower, provoking the man to grapple the wall of blocks in front of him in order not to fall to his imminent death. Looking forwards to the source of the horrible sound, he was greeted by his foe for the night. The creature’s giant, grubby hands scrambled at the platform before it, causing the blocks to fall into the abyss below as it clumsily rose from the darkness. A fleshy, bald head, littered with pulsating veins, came into his field of view- with horrific, dilatated eyes that squelched as they moved around in their sockets and what appeared to be a pacifier stuck in its mouth, muffling its demonic cries ever so slightly. Vincent stumbled back in horror, pressing his back against the block behind him- too shocked to move.

Another scream from the assumed child broke the trance he was in, consequentially, he bolted to the side, haphazardly throwing together a staircase to climb up. The Child’s eyes followed him as he moved upwards- the dilatated black dots bore into his soul whenever he glanced down to gauge the distance between them. He has only been climbing for a short while, but his chest already burred with overexertion, his throat was dry with fear, and a combination of both caused his breaths to be shallow and his head to feel light.

After a couple of minutes of frantic climbing, Vincent’s face lit up and the familiar sound of the bell ringing filled his ears- drowning out the cries of the infant as he got higher. Excitement and adrenaline pushed him forwards, pushing and pulling blocks with all his might, he almost reached the exit.

When he lost his footing.

Grasping on to the edge of the block he was standing on just moments ago with just one hand, all of the exhaustion from the past 4 days hit him at once- swaying there above the seemingly endless void, he suddenly felt so _tired_. So very tired of his circumstances. A girlfriend he wasn’t happy with, a batshit insane mistress, a frustrating job, deathly nightmares. His fingers slipped slightly as he lay his head against the white, decorated stone he hung from. Tears welled in his eyes as his arm strained and buckled, he had been telling everyone he came across to keep trying, to not give up despite the odds- so why did he suddenly lose the strength to pull himself up as he had done countless times? He imagined all of the things he could have done, all of the things he could have said, all of the situations that could have gone differently.

All his thoughts died as the tower shook once more, and he was cast into the darkness below.


	3. Awakening

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things get gayer.

**_What?_ **

His vision was blurry, clouded, as if he was looking through murky water. His head was laying on something invitingly soft.

**_Where am I?_ **

Slowly, he held a shaky hand in front of his face, attempting to focus his dizzily spinning perception. Squinting his eyes, he was finally able to see a pale, bony hand.  _ His _ pale, bony hand- shaking slightly; very much there, physical, of the flesh.

“Oh my god, I’m not dead!” Vincent exclaimed, grinning widely out of joy and springing up- only to wince and fall back down onto the bed. A sharp pain shot through his back as soon as he sat up. His chest heaved as the pain progressively died down- his lower back, arm, and leg were all wrapped in a tight gauze, presumably injured. Seems like he wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon.

Resigning, he lethargically gazed around the room he was in. An apartment (much more sizable than his own) greeted him, causing his stomach to bubble in panic. This place was completely foreign to him, the cosy chair next to the bed, the woollen blankets weighing down on top of him, the small kitchen further into the room, the wooden door the side of it, the lit fireplace to his left- he had seen none of it before. Attempting to turn his head to the right, he found that a rather large obstruction was preventing him from doing so. Reaching his hand up to investigate he felt a slightly cold, ridged protrusion sticking out of his head.

The horns.

Was he still dreaming? If so, that just made this all even more peculiar- a place with such a comfortable and welcoming warmth to it had no business in a world such as the one Vincent was forced to visit every night. Is this what happened when every sheep fell from the tower? That’s the last thing he could remember; a seemingly infinite descent into the abyss. Was he in heaven? No, surely not.

As the man pondered his predicament, he heard the distinctive clicks of a key turning. Whipping his head over to the door, he froze, fear completely overtaking him as it opened slowly. A tall, lanky figure stepped through the entrance, ducking slightly as to not bang its head on the frame, then turning to turn the key in the lock once more. Vincent’s breath caught in his throat as it moved to sit in the chair next to him, taking a black notebook (oddly embellished with the Mars and Venus symbols) from under their arm and beginning to scrawl in it with the quill in its breast pocket- never looking up at him. Staring in disbelief, the man fixated on the  _ unhuman  _ attributes the creature unmistakably had; deathly pale skin, horns that twisted behind its head and, most notably, a tail that languidly swayed beneath it, brushing against the floor. Flapping his mouth open and closed like a fish out of water, Brooks struggled for words- letting out a sort of confused stuttering. The thing noticed none the less. Its face seemed to light up as its eyes met his- bright red eyes that seemed to pierce Vincent’s very soul; seemed to look through him. 

“Oh good, you’re finally awake.”

The human damn well nearly jumped out of his skin as the demon spoke, panic fuelled adrenaline coursing through his veins. Sighing, Astaroth stood and dusted himself off, moving to clamp a gloved hand down on the sheep’s mouth as he drew in a breath to scream.

“Before you panic, Brooks,” The patronising tone he used caused Vincent’s panic to bubble over into annoyance, “Let me explain what happened, alright?”

Although irritated, he nodded in response, prompting the other to release his jaw and straighten his back- presumably with the sole intent of looking down on him.

“You, in all your infinite wisdom, fell from the tower last night,” He rolled his eyes whilst speaking, “yet, with some fortunate twist of fate, your head and vital organs were saved by the cushy wool of other sheep! Isn’t that amazing?” The lamb grimaced at the other’s excited expression. The thought of landing on other people’s dead bodies- sheep-like or no- made him feel sick to his stomach.

“Yeah, great…” Averting his eyes, the anger from before bubbled up in him again- surely demon with an obvious hand in the mass killing of men wouldn’t rescue him out of the kindness of its heart- this was all a sick game to him after all. “Why am I here then? I lost, didn’t I?” Vincent stared the monster down as his joyous grin faltered, “Do you enjoy fucking with me or something?!”

Brook’s breathes quickened as the creature lowered its head down to his, so close their noses were almost touching; only quickening further as an uncanny smile spread across its face.

_ “Exactly” _

While Vincent was left there in shock, the demon moved away again, throwing his arms up to stretch them. Muttering something about how late in the day it was and yawning. None of it registered to him- until he felt the mattress sink next to him at the added weight.

“Wait what the fuck?!” jumping again, he swivelled his head to look at the demon, who was nonchalantly lying down in bed next to him.

“What?” His tone was completely apathetic, “You’re in my bed.”

“Yeah, but…” The man blushed slightly, the idea of sharing a bed with someone who’s been trying to kill you wasn’t exactly the most comforting thought.

“Oh, grow up, Brooks, we’re both adults here” The demon turned so he was facing away from him, making the sheep feel slightly more comfortable. Curiosity overtaking him, he inquired;

“How old  _ are _ you?”

“Don’t ask that lamb, it's rude”


	4. Observation

Astaroth’s day had been infuriatingly boring- a monotonous sequence of repetition. It had seemed that the illustrious Vincent Brooks brought much more life to the flock than he had anticipated- and thus, in his absence, the sheep refused to progress nearly as quickly as they had before, leaving him sat in silence the majority of the night. Although some sheep continued to venture up the tower, he found next to no enjoyment in tormenting them the way he did Brooks- they were all far too afraid of him already, so much so that he found himself longing for the lamb’s falsified confidence and abrasiveness; it was always fun to knock him down a few pegs- even if he could exact the same reaction from another sheep it didn’t feel the same. It’s not as if he was completely robbed of that luxury, however as, despite what the morning news and those close to him may believe, Vincent Brooks was not trapped in a comatose-like state, he was lying in bed next to him, sobbing.

He had heard people cry before, quite often in fact- many humans had broken down while climbing the tower- this wasn’t new to him. Yet it felt _different_. All of the other times he had heard a human weep he had brushed it off as one of the many faults they had, maybe even chuckled a little at their misery, but this- this just made his stomach sink and chest heavy.

He wanted it to stop.

A sudden sense of panic filled his veins as he jolted upwards, causing the human next to him to jump slightly. “Oh, sorry,” Brooks sniffed as he wiped the tears from his eyes. “Did I wake you up?” The ram didn’t receive a response, instead, the demon placed a hand against his face, intending to dry his cheeks a little; instead, he paused. He was aware that humans felt generally warm, but he didn’t expect it to be so pleasant to the touch, so oddly comforting. “um…” the sheep slowly sat up and peeled the ice-cold hand from his face, setting it down next to him “what do you want then?” “Oh,” the demon didn’t realise how long he’d been staring “you need to stop crying.” The lamb stared at him in momentary confusion, his eyes then darting around the room anxiously. “I can’t just do that.” He laughed awkwardly, rubbing his neck as he did so- his cheeks still wet. “Well, what’s wrong then?” Astaroth kept his tone completely deadpan, he never understood how humans could be so fragile, so emotional- he wanted nothing to do with the things, after all, they were nothing more than a hindrance. Vincent grew quiet at his enquiry, averting his eyes away from him- after around a minute of silence he muttered under his breath. “I’m worried I guess- about my friends,” Brooks’ eyes suddenly sparked with rage as he raised them to meet his “That’s your fault, right? Why are you even doing all this? What’s the fucking point?” The demon was taken aback by his sudden change in tone, his usual reaction would be to snap back at him for having the audacity to speak to him like that- yet, for some odd reason, he couldn’t bring himself to do it. For some odd reason, the look he was giving him caused a sinking feeling in his stomach.

He wanted it to stop.

Clearing his throat, he looked Brooks dead in the eyes. “I can make the puzzles easier on them- if that’d help” Vincent’s eyes widened in surprised as he talked. “But if they _still_ manage to die there’s nothing I can do about it.” “You…” Suspicion laced the sheep’s expression as he stared back at him “you’d do that?” Suddenly feeling the need to avert his eyes from the others face, he looked into the recesses of the room, rubbing his neck and feeling his cheeks heat slightly. “Yeah, I guess” Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the human’s face light up- that feeling in his stomach subsiding. Astaroth looked back at him as he sighed in relief and lay back down, following suit a couple moments later and once again turning his back to the sheep. “Um…” A couple minutes passed before the lamb spoke again, his voice barely audible. “Thank you.” As reluctant and listless as the thanks was, it spurred yet another feeling in his stomach, although one mile less unpleasant- it almost made him jump at how sudden it was. “It’s okay...” Silence overtook the room again, but that feeling still squirmed around in his gut. Smiling, he pushed his hand into his cheek, it was warm again.

He fell asleep feeling warm and fuzzy, maybe this wouldn't be so bad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took too long I'm sorry.


End file.
